Anonymous Challenge
by kittykittyhunter
Summary: When thefts occur at Mimezawa, Hitsugaya resolves to unravel the mystery. Will his classmate Yukio be a help or a hindrance?
1. Associate

This is deciated to the wonderful Shinichi06, who suggested an Alternate Universe featuring Hitsugaya and Yukio. Since they're both among my favourite characters, I had a lot of fun writing this short fic. I hope you enjoy this story!

(All the other characters are random OCs.)

A small note: I was very inspired by Eoin Colfer's _Half-Moon Investigations_. If you have the time, read that book. It's full of awesome. :D

* * *

><p><strong>ANONYMOUS CHALLENGE<strong>

_~ kittykittyhunter ~_

**…**

Chapter One

**Associate**

* * *

><p>"For you."<p>

Yukio reluctantly paused the game, looking away from his handheld console. He was being scowled at by Hitsugaya Toushirou, a short boy who was easily dwarfed by his temper. Wordlessly, Yukio took the piece of paper being proffered.

He scanned the elegant penmanship, noting the curt salutation and flourished signature. "This is a joke," he said. "School's _just_ resumed – and the President is _already_ giving me warning notes?"

"Because you've _already_ broken the rules." A red band was tied around Hitsugaya's right arm: for the third year running, he had been nominated and elected as a Student Council Representative. "You should know by now that valuables are prohibited on school premises."

Honestly – Hitsugaya lectured more than the teachers. Yukio twitched his head towards the windows. "Take a look over there," he suggested.

It didn't seem as though Hitsugaya would comply – but curiosity won him over.

He snarled.

"I thought the school didn't have the budget for a library extension?"

"They didn't," Yukio shrugged. Far below, a group of men were circling a potential site and making notes on clipboards. "But circumstances changed over the summer."

Hitsugaya slapped his palms on the desk. Yukio raised an eyebrow. "One day," the Representative vowed, "you'll discover that money doesn't solve everything."

Yukio pressed the START button.

**…**

The ball was rocketing towards him – Hitsugaya leapt – turned – kicked – the ball crashed into the net before the goalie was able to react.

"Excellent, Toushirou!" screamed the Captain. "Your level hasn't dropped, even after Nationals!"

One of Hitsugaya's veins quivered. He gave a slight nod, watching the goalie grumble, collect the ball and throw it out to the team.

Muromachi Keisuke was a talented goalkeeper, but he resented being consistently bested by Hitsugaya. The striker had been recruited to the soccer team after scoring a hat trick in his first PE lesson.

Keisuke was known for his quick reflexes and his badges – three pins that were forever stapled to the brunette's blazer, despite disobeying uniform regulations. They were all of Keisuke's own design, and Hitsugaya regretted having to forward a warning from the President.

Some people, Hitsugaya thought sourly as he unlaced his boots, didn't depend on bribery.

**…**

History ended with students detailing their weekend plans. Relieved, Hitsugaya tidied away his belongings. The past three weeks had overflown with activity; he was hungry, looking forward to a snack.

"Give it back."

The boy frowned at Yukio, who stood with his hands deep in his pockets. "Go home," answered Hitsugaya, pushing in his chair. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Yukio sighed. "I waited until the end of the day because you're our Representative, and should really protect your reputation. You've made your point – now give it back."

"If you've lost something," Hitsugaya said, "I suggest you ask at reception. Goodbye."

He was walking past when Yukio stuck out his foot.

Hitsugaya almost tripped. Almost. He swivelled with such cold fury that doubt momentarily lit Yukio's face.

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"_Bridge Hero 3_!"

Hitsugaya stared.

"_Bridge_ – _Hero_ – _3_," repeated Yukio. "My game. It's gone."

"That's why we have rules about valuables. You probably misplaced it."

"I _didn't_ misplace it," Yukio insisted, "I'm not that careless. It's been stolen – and it's _your _job to find out by who."

Hitsugaya's was saved from answering by his rumbling stomach.

**…**

"My treat," declared Yukio.

Hitsugaya said nothing, sliding a tray of spring rolls closer.

"It happened," Yukio began, wondering whether the slight teen could finish the ¥4000 worth of food on the table, "after Physics class. I definitely had the game in Physics."

"How do you know?" enquired Hitsugaya, devouring the sixth spring roll and reaching for the prawn crackers.

Yukio answered simply, "Because I completed it in Physics." Ignoring Hitsugaya's glower, the blonde went on, "That's when I put it in my bag. I decided to take some notes and start _Bridge Hero 4_ during Break."

"What a sacrifice."

Yukio began to smile – then stopped. "Shouldn't you be writing this down?"

"No need."

Naturally. Hitsugaya (now slurping a bowl of ramen) was famed for his astonishing memory.

"We had PE after Break. The thief had plenty of time to sneak into the changing rooms, steal the disc and disappear."

Once Hitsugaya's bowl was clear and he had drunk some water, he said, "Two things. First of all, the changing rooms are locked: it would be impossible for someone without authority to get inside. Also – is anything else missing?"

"No, just _Bridge Hero 3_."

The Representative was working his way through a plate of noodles. He swallowed a wad of vegetables and pointed out, "Why wouldn't someone steal your console too? It's more valuable."

Yukio's eyes shone. "Because," he replied, "my bag has a secret compartment."

Hitsugaya began munching on nigiri.

"Take this seriously," Yukio growled.

"All these years," said Hitsugaya, refilling his glass of water from the tap stationed at the table, "you've ignored the rules. You've never taken anyone seriously. Besides – this is all circumstantial. I'd have to assume that the theft was a random act of spite.

"And," now he proceeded to the final course, "there are too many people who dislike you to conduct a reasonable investigation."

He finished the slice of doriyaki.

Yukio blinked. "You're really not going to help?"

Hitsugaya speared some watermelon chunks. "You can make an official complaint," he advised. "The Council would try to help. But don't come to _me_ with your problems. I owe you nothing."

It was only after Hitsugaya had left the restaurant that Yukio noticed multiple notes on the table.

**…**

"Ah, um – Hitsugaya-san?"

"What is it Mirashima?"

She flushed. "Well you see," she murmured, "a student came to me with a problem…"

The boy frowned. Mirashima Elmira wore glasses, was a foot taller than him and sported long green braids. She was so naturally shy that it baffled him as to how she had been become Class A's female Representative. Certain that he knew _precisely_ which student had approached Mirashima with a complaint, he asked, "What did he want?"

"H-he?" squeaked Mirashima. "It was a girl! Nishida Erika from class 3-D… you know her, don't you?"

Hitsugaya winced. "Of course."

Nishida Erika was the leader of the Erika Club, three students who all had two things in common: the given name Erika and the ability to frustrate everyone they met. The group had multiple altercations with the Council in the first term, constantly hosting unauthorised tea parties and fashion shows.

Mirashima continued, "Nishida-san reported a theft. Her special comb is missing."

"Her special… _comb_?"

The girl nodded. "It was a gift from her elder sister, who works as a beautician in France. It's very important to Nishida-san."

"Alright," said Hitsugaya, "thanks for letting me know."

Mirashima beamed.

**…**

He knew that the Erika Club were inside the music room from the argument that carried through the door –

"For the_ last_ time Ondango – NO means NO!"

"But Erika-chan!"

The door slid open violently and a grey-eyed boy hopped out, rubbing his hip. Behind him were three girls with identical ponytails.

"Week after week, you pester us with your confessions," snarled the middle girl. "What kind of _nerve_ is that, asking out all three? Get lost!"

The boy turned – Hitsugaya caught the glint of something familiar pinned to Ondango's blazer.

"But it's only because you're equally beautiful!"

The shortest girl snapped, "Flattery doesn't work on the Erika Club!"

Accepting defeat, the junior Ondango Youji shuffled away.

Hitsugaya coughed lightly. The girls mechanically turned in his direction.

"I wish to speak to you about an incident." At his words, the trio parted, allowing him access.

To Histugaya's annoyance, he noticed that there was another person in the music room – a hunched figure in one corner. Nishida Erika didn't mind having an audience and began reliving the loss of her comb. Once the Representative had finally convinced the girl to stop describing the item's unrivalled beauty, she explained that it had been stolen from her bag. Her two friends confirmed the story, and the Erika Club looked at Hitsugaya expectantly.

"Well," he began, "we'll do our best –"

"How else may we be of service?" chorused the group.

"Pardon…"

Nishida Erika pin-wheeled her arms. "Senior Erika, Class 3-D!"

Mimato Erika performed a pirouette. "Junior Erika, Class 2-F!"

Shirane Erika jumped on the spot. "Freshman Erika, Class 1-B!"

They cried, "Together we are – THE ERIKA CLUB!"

In the loud silence that followed, Hitsugaya was lost for words.

"Personally," said the spectator, rising from his seat, "I'd target you three just for being so damn annoying."

Mimato Erika spun, placing her hands on her hips. "And what do you mean by _target_?"

Yukio stowed his game away in his bag. "This is no coincidence," said the blonde, now addressing Hitsugaya. "This is the fourth theft that's been reported – it's unlikely that these incidents aren't linked. As the _genius_ Hitsugaya who never gets less than a perfect score, I bet it's eating you up that you haven't cracked this yet."

"I want to restore the students' peace of mind and bring the criminal to justice," answered Hitsugaya. "This isn't about my ego."

Yukio's cool eyes glittered. "You could use some help."


	2. Ally

Chapter Two

**Allies**

* * *

><p>"From who?" asked the girls.<p>

"No thank you," declined Hitsugaya. "This is a matter for the Student Council. I don't see how we would benefit from your contributions."

There were suppressed mutters from the Erika Club. Yukio smirked. "You're so _stiff_. Think about it: with my aid –"

"– Your _aid_," Hitsugaya hissed, "is nothing more than a bank account. This requires investigation."

And without another glance, he marched from the room

**…**

He had conducted interviews with the victims. He had discussed the thefts with the other Representatives, and assessed the value of the items stolen. But Hitsugaya still felt as though he had made little headway, and it was with a worried frown that he went to soccer practice.

He nearly crashed into another student. Muromachi swore foully – then apologised. "Sorry," said the goalkeeper gruffly. "I'm not in the best mood."

"What's wrong?"

Muromachi muttered, "My badges. Someone's nicked my _badges_."

Hitsugaya clenched his fists. Just great: this meant that Muromachi was the sixth victim, and the Council still had no clue as to who was behind the string of thefts. Through careful negotiation, President Genbon had persuaded those hit (a group unconnected by club activities or year group) to keep quiet. At this rate it wouldn't matter… the whole school would be robbed.

The striker mentally listed the stolen items: a video game; a comb; a watch; an autographed novel; a metal pen. They were all of monetary value – the thief was greedy, taking that which would fetch a decent price. But Muromachi's badges? Though they were unique, and popular among the students, Hitsugaya couldn't imagine someone _paying_ for one.

Was it possible that someone else was seizing the opportunity?

"We'll get them back," Hitsugaya promised firmly, "just –"

At that moment, Hidezaki Saito ran towards the pair. Hitsugaya and Muromachi greeted him politely but weren't acknowledged – there was a glazed quality to the Coach's irises. Nearly in tears, Hidezaki ordered the seniors, "Come this way."

They followed apprehensively, swerving past the greenhouses, hurrying out to –

"No way," breathed Muromachi.

New goalposts. New nets. New cones. New soccer balls. New _kits_.

"Anonymous donation," breathed Hidezaki. "We have a very good friend…"

Hitsugaya's sharp eyes caught something and, after sneaking a glance towards his dancing and whooping teammates, he made his way to a fluorescent cone. He plucked the note secured under one corner.

The letter 'Y', followed by a full stop.

Not so anonymous.

**…**

Finding Yukio was easy: he was in Class 3-A's homeroom, busily tapping the screen of a handheld console. He raised one hand in greeting but did not avert his gaze, only looking away three minutes later. Hitsugaya had not moved.

"Hi," said Yukio cheerfully.

Hitsugaya couldn't be bothered to waste time on pleasantries. "Why?"

Yukio lifted one shoulder. Whether he was easing a cramp due to sitting badly for hours, or merely shrugging, wasn't clear. "Why not? You won the Nationals after all – it's only reasonable that your victory was rewarded."

"By you?" the Representative queried icily.

The taller boy frowned. "Listen," he dragged out a chair with one foot, inviting Hitsugaya to sit down, "your efforts to solve this case aren't working. I have no reason to care: I could buy ten copies of _Bridge Hero 3_ and my worries would be over. Since I _want_ to help, why not let me?"

"Multiple reasons. For a start, our styles are completely different."

"Exactly," nodded Yukio, "that's what you need: a different perspective."

Bizarre. Yukio's sense of humour (and money) made him popular, but Hitsugaya rarely saw the blonde talking to people. He was content to loiter in the corners of rooms, rotting his eyes. He seemed to earnestly want to aid in the investigations – perhaps…

Hitsugaya held out a hand. "Alright. But this alliance is temporary."

Yukio smiled.

**…**

Four days later, Yukio found a square of paper in his bag. Wondering how it had got there, he opened the sheet and read the neatly-printed note:

STOP YOUR INVESTIGATION.

THE CONSEQUENCES OF DISOBEYING

WILL BE DIRE.

YOU HAVE BOTH BEEN WARNED.

_Both_… there was something peculiar about the note. Yukio signalled to Hitsugaya, and the shorter boy joined the blonde at his desk.

"What is it?"

Yukio showed Hitsugaya the note. "Strange," frowned Hitsugaya, "why would someone leave a threat written entirely in hiragana?"

"Oh," Yukio slapped his fingers against the sheet, "_that's_ why it's so long! I thought there was something strange about it… maybe our culprit is very shaky on their kanji, and would make a tell-tale mistake?"

"Maybe," said Hitsugaya suspiciously, "but this is written by hand."

"To show that he's serious," answered Yukio immediately. "Nothing spells fear like handwritten threats. We should be glad that he didn't use blood."

Hitsugaya sighed. "This came up in one of your games, didn't it?"

"_Mysteries with Leonardo_," confirmed Yukio. "It's a classic – one of my favourites."

**…**

Suddenly, it was easy.

They were in the cafeteria. Yukio stared at Hitsugaya, who was working his way through his third trifle, and asked, "Aren't you an athlete?"

"I'm hungry." Clearly, Hitsugaya hated working on an empty stomach.

"The normal thing to look for," Yukio began, munching on a bar of chocolate, "is some sort of pattern. But we haven't noticed one – so it's best to consider the criminal himself.

"The victims are myself, Erika-One, Saikawa, Durano, Yushonin and Muromachi. I was expecting another attack after the note, but I suppose we've scared him."

"It might not be a 'him' at all," interjected Hitsugaya. "And you're counting Muromachi?"

"Definitely. No one can have taken this as an opportunity to strike – the President's managed to keep it quiet."

Hitsugaya nodded. "President Genbon isn't happy about this. Right now he should be celebrating for winning a national poetry competition, but he's caught up in all of the drama here. The sooner we get Mimezawa back to normal, the better."

"Ah, middle school," sighed Yukio, sitting back. "Is the poem good?"

"Very. One of the judges commented that she was impressed by the President's knowledge of language."

Yukio tore another chunk from the chocolate bar. Then another. Then another. Hitsugaya followed the blonde's gaze: Yukio was staring idly at the cafeteria queue, where the Erika Club were paying for their lunches.

Without warning, Yukio brought one fist down on the table.

"What are you –"

"I know who did it," Yukio hissed. "Leave your pudding!"

**…**

"You saw him be rejected by the Erika Club," called Yukio as they charged through the Science block, Hitsugaya glancing at stray freshman who were in the way to make them move – "it makes sense that he'd have a grudge. And that brat is always hanging around me, thinking that if he gets into my good books, freebies will rain from the sky!"

Hitsugaya thought back to the previous week, to when a flash of light had tickled the corner of his eye. "Badges," he said, as they now climbed the stairwell leading to the rooftop, "Ondango had badges."

Yukio stopped abruptly and turned, triumphantly spreading his arms. "See?" he crowed. "It's worthwhile being my ally!"

"Let me handle this," replied Hitsugaya quietly. "It's still unfair to go up there and accuse someone without evidence."

The other snorted. "Evidence? You've got your evidence: logic. And logic tells _me _that he's the guy."

But something was gnawing the back of Hitsugaya's mind, a fact that didn't add up, an equation that didn't quite balance. He and Yukio continued up the stairs, and when they reached the door that led to the roof, the taller boy crashed it open.

It was deserted except for a single student, eating a wholemeal sandwich.

Ondango.

Three badges were pinned to his blazer.


	3. Agent

Chapter Three

**Agent**

* * *

><p>"Ondango," began Hitsugaya, "we need to have –"<p>

But Yukio closed the distance between themselves and the junior, and Ondango looked up, his face painted with a mixture of admiration and surprise. Before Hitsugaya could intervene, Yukio hissed, "Hand it over."

"H-hand _what_ over?" stammered Ondango.

Hitsugaya said, "We need to ask you a few questions, Ondango. If you tell the truth, you'll be able to help all of Mimezawa Middle School."

The junior stood up. He was much, much taller than Hitsugaya – he was even taller than Yukio. But Ondango's eyes betrayed his youth. "Okay," he swallowed, "I'll help."

Yukio folded his arms. "You're usually brimming with confidence," he noted coolly. "What happened to your guts?"

Ondango shook his head. "I haven't," he insisted, "I –"

But the blonde lost patience. "The badges! Where did you get the badges?"

"I made them!"

"LIAR!" Yukio stepped forward – Ondango stepped back. The junior's back was against the criss-crossed wires. "You stole them," corrected Yukio, "from the third-year, Muromachi Keisuke!"

"No!" Ondango's cheeks were red – Hitsugaya grabbed the back of Yukio's blazer and wrenched; the blonde was dragged back a foot – the small senior was so much stronger than he looked.

"You're wrong," mumbled Ondango. "I admire Muromachi-san… so I made badges to resemble his…"

His irises were glazed.

Hitsugaya barked, "He's telling the truth."

"What?"

"I saw him," said Hitsugaya, "wearing those badges before Muromachi's were ever stolen. These are imitations.

"I'm sorry for accusing you," continued the Representative. "It's clear you're not the person I'm looking for."

At Hitsugaya's glacial scowl, Yukio murmured an apology. Then, they left Ondango to his lunch.

**…**

It became clear that Hitsugaya no longer wanted an ally: he did everything to avoid the blonde and Yukio, realising that he hadn't been forgiven, retreated to his corner, playing _The Great Ice Ring _over and over again on his mobile phone.

It was disappointing, Yukio thought glumly, his gaze travelling listlessly over a notice about the library extension. He respected Hitsugaya's refreshing honesty. The representative was the only person brave enough to make it clear that he found Yukio despicable…

**…**

Class 3-A's two Representatives were returning from Home Economics, discussing the upcoming school play. Rumours were abuzz that Mirashima was taking a course to boost her self-confidence. The girl abruptly broke the conversation – "I'm glad there haven't been any more thefts."

"We didn't retrieve the items. In my eyes, that's still a failure."

"Yes…" Mirashima nodded; her glasses slid down her nose. Pushing them up, she added, "Oh – you have a class with Kudo Kyoko-san, don't you?"

"Biology. Why?"

Mirashima searched through her pocket and produced a folded slip. "She snuck out of school during lunch yesterday… could you pass this to her?"

And this time, Hitsugaya knew. He did not say anything but strode away.

He was watched from a distance.

**…**

He didn't bother with ceremony – Hitsugaya threw the door open: the handle smashed against the wall and left a small chip in the paintwork. From behind his heavy desk, Genbon Yukida looked up. He quirked an eyebrow smiled. "Well, hello," greeted the President warmly, "bit of a loud greeting, but just the person I wanted to talk to! I've had a request from –"

"Save it," snarled Histugaya, "I'm very close to hurting you."

Genbon stared. "What in the world do you mean?"

"You!" Hitsugaya advanced and slammed his hands on the desk. His cold eyes were blazing. "You're the one behind all this – _you're_ the one targeting the students!"

"What are you talking about?"

The striker gave a hollow laugh. "I should have seen it straight away. Everyone one who was robbed received one of your ridiculous warning notes – then you decided to take it further, and pressurise the students. You've been abusing your power!"

"And then," came a new voice, "you sent us a threat."

Yukio entered the room, closing the door with one foot. A constrained smile was painted on his face. "Very clever," he went on. "A double bluff. You're known for your excellent knowledge of kanji – so why would _you_ do something as weird as write in only hiragana?

"That became clear," he edged closer until at Hitsugaya's side. "Your talent is your curse. You're so used to showing off when writing that you automatically use characters normal people have never seen. If you'd gone about your threat in the usual way, Hitsugaya would have known the culprit in a heartbeat."

Genbon Yukida had remained seated for the entire speech, his expression impassive, his fingers forming a steeple. Now, he rose, slowly. "I hope you understand," he began cheerfully, "that randomly accusing people leads to severe consequences."

Yukio announced, "Invaders must die."

Hitsugaya shot the taller boy a sidelong glance – Genbon laughed. "How appropriate," he said.

Then he flipped the table.

Yukio roared – but Hitsugaya wasn't the best striker for nothing. He kicked the blonde aside and jumped out of the way before his feet were crushed: paperwork and stationary were upended, colliding on the floor. They probably had less than a minute before a teacher appeared –

"Are you crazy?" yelled Yukio.

Genbon had found an umbrella; he was holding it like a sword. "Perhaps a little," he shrugged. "When I became President, I vowed to improve Mimezawa. I wanted to perfect our discipline.

"However, I could not make certain students understand the importance of obeying rules. Saikawa, who regularly brawls in the park. Durano, who barely does his homework. All summer long my mind was plagued with these worthless pupils who would discredit my hard work. I wondered, 'How shall I deal with them?'

"Then, the answer." Genbon's eyes were glinting. "I needed to make a statement –"

"So you robbed your peers," Histugaya's hands were balled into fists. He had never felt so revolted.

Genbon laughed. "Yes."

The Representative shouted – he jumped forward, preparing to crunch his knuckles into Genbon's face – but at the last moment Histugaya was held back; his blazer was being gripped by Yukio. "Let go!" yelled the shorter boy. "Let – me – _go_!"

Once again, the door burst open. The boys swivelled: Coach Hidezaki hovered in the entrance.

"What – what in the world happened?" The teacher's eyes were darting around the room.

Yukio held his phone aloft. "A confession."

He pressed the PLAY button.

**…**

"So we won't be seeing _him_ again," gloated Yukio. "And now that you're the President, you've inherited all his paperwork!"

Hitsugaya grimaced. The whole Genbon fiasco had been resolved quickly, thanks to numerous students giving statements and Yukio's recording. It turned out that he had applied voice command to several of the phone's actions. As a result, Genbon returned the stolen items, and was sent from Mimezawa in disgrace.

That left a hole in the Student Council: one that popular demand forced Hitsugaya to fill. There was _tons_ of filing to sort through.

"This means," added Hitsugaya, "that 3-A needs a new Representative."

"Hmm…"

"What?"

The blonde drummed his fingers on the table. "Maybe _I'll_ run this time."

"Great." Hitsugaya hesitated, then added, "It'll be like in _Mysteries with Leonardo_, when Anderson gets a promotion and becomes Lancelot's partner."

Yukio froze.

"Y-you've… played…"

"I thought I'd give it a shot," Hitsugaya shrugged, "since you thought so highly of it."

Yukio smiled. "Deep down, you're actually kind… Toushirou."

Hitsugaya's vein throbbed.

"DON'T call me Toushirou!"

Yukio laughed. Strangely, Hitsugaya joined in.

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed the story!<p> 


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